


The ashes of murder

by Aniline



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crime Fighting, Gen, Journalism, Journalist!Lance, Murder Mystery, Murdered!Krolia and family, Prison, Prisoner!Keith, Private Investigators, healthcare assistant and engineering student!Hunk, lawyer!shiro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27922270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aniline/pseuds/Aniline
Summary: Four years ago, Keith Kogane was convicted for the gruesome murder of his family. When he escapes from prison with Hunk as a hostage, Hunk expects to be killed. Instead, Keith swears he’s completely innocent. Despite Hunk’s scepticism, he finds himself investigating a web of deception to discover the truth about how Keith’s really family died. Modern AU, murder mystery/crime drama. All pairings canon and background.
Relationships: Past Adam/Shiro, Past Allura/Lance
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Voltron murder mystery/crime drama. Warnings are in the end notes.

The emergency buzzer broke the relative still of the hospital’s admissions unit at three in the morning. 

Hunk’s heart rate skyrocketed as he - like everyone else working there - ran to the room indicated with mounting trepidation. He’d been briefed about this room - and its unusual occupant. 

A high security prisoner.

God knew what Hunk was going to find. 

Inside the room, a slender man in a prison guard’s uniform was vomiting noisily onto the floor whilst being held by an identically dressed woman.

“Can you get him into a chair?” Shay asked, unfazed by the scene. She was the nurse in charge for the shift, and very little could rattle her. 

“Give me a sec,” the uniformed woman replied tersely, as her colleague threw up again. Something was stopping the unwell guard from moving freely. Hunk realised it was the handcuff on his wrist, binding him to the prisoner on the bed via slim silver chain. His colleague fumbled with keys, inelegantly uncuffing him. She then carefully resecured the vacant handcuff to the bed. 

Once the male guard was detached, his colleague shoved him at the health care professionals. “Help him!” she barked. “I need to talk to the prison. She pulled out her phone and started to speak urgently into it. “This is Nadia Rizavi, calling from North Gate Hospital. We have a situation. It’s Griffin. Stomach bug...”

Hunk turned his attention back to the vomiting man. Shay calmly sidestepped the worst of the sick and guided the unfortunate warden into a chair. She felt his pulse with a frown. “Let’s check his blood pressure and temperature,” she directed. “Then can someone get a line into him? We’ll get a drip up and get him to Emergency.”

Someone hastily tore open a cannulation kit, clumsily spilling the contents over the bed, before obtaining IV access and running a drip into the unwell warden’s vein. Another person sprinted to find a wheelchair, and then bundled their newest patient into it. 

Just as they were all about to leave, Rizavi hung up her phone and flicked her eyes at the bed. “Someone will have to help me watch him in the meantime.”

In the drama, Hunk had failed to notice the slim, dark haired figure manacled for the hospital bed’s railings. 

“One of the health care assistants,” Shay mused, quickly reviewing her staff still in the room. “Hunk?” she asked. “Can you help her? You watch patients sometimes, right?” 

Hunk jolted and stared. "That sounds like a really bad idea,” he protested. “I stop delirious old ladies climbing out of their beds. It’s a little different to supervising high security prisoners.” 

"Seriously though," Shay took him by the arm and used that reassuring voice that always worked so well with their most nervous patients. "It's three am. If he hasn’t stirred through all this uproar, he’ll probably sleep through anything. And he’s cuffed to the bed. You'll be fine."

Hunk appraised the prisoner with more concentration. So far he had not lived up to his forbidding reputation. His facial features were entirely hidden beneath a head of unkempt black hair. A slim, clear plastic tube connected him to a bag of saline, suspended from a metal drip stand.There was no sign the patient was remotely aware of the drama unfolding around him. And yet he, unwittingly, was in the middle of it all. 

“Fine,” Hunk acquiesced. Shay smiled in thanks, her tired features becoming radiantly beautiful. She left with the rest of the medical team, leaving Hunk, the female warden and their charge alone. 

“Well this is a total shitshow!” Rizavi shook her head in disbelief. “I’ve spoken to the prison. They’re going to call the police to take over from us. In the mean time,” her eyes flicked towards Hunk, “You’re watching him with me until they get here?”

Hunk nodded. "Is there anything I need to know?" he asked, trying not to sound frantic. 

"Not really," the warden answered with a shrug. “He’s been okay really. Kicked off a bit when they took his blood, but he's been calm ever since. You saw how docile he was with all the disruption earlier.”

"What's he in for?" Hunk asked curiously.

"Oh. He's suicidal. He's on hunger strike," Rizavi replied, lowly. "We just brought him in to check his blood tests, while our shrink treats his depression, but it's at the point he needs urgent fluids and nasogastric tube feeding. We can't do that in prison." 

"No," Hunk clarified. "I meant what's he in for?"

Her expression shuttered closed. "You don't want to know. And I’m not going to tell you."

"Great. Just great," Hunk muttered to himself, sitting down on the footstool. "Well buddy," he said to the lump on the bed. "I guess it's just the three of us now."

“Don’t engage with the prisoner,” Rizavi warned without bite. 

The lump on the bed seemed to shudder in response. 

Hunk empathised. "You okay bud?" he tried, ignoring his new colleague’s glare, "You awake?"

Nothing. "Huh,” Hunk muttered, “Guess not." 

Hunk sat twiddling his thumbs in silence before looking at his fob watch. Ten minutes had elapsed without a peep. Hunk sneakily got his phone out and brought up the day's football results. Rizavi didn’t comment. Hunk scooted closer to the light above the bed to read them better. 

Smash!

Hunk stared. The prisoner was standing, blood dripping from the IV torn from his arm. He brandished the heavy, metal IV drip stand like a weapon. Hunk stared over the bed. Rizavi lay unmoving on the floor, a bruise already visible on her forehead. 

She had never had a chance to scream. 

“Make a sound,” the prisoner rasped, holding the drip stand like a club, “And I will kill you both!”

Hunk noticed with a sinking heart the prisoner was between him and the exit. 

“Come round here,” the prisoner ordered. Hunk realised the prisoner was still manacled to the bed, by way of a short chain. 

Hunk gulped but forced himself not to panic. Think he told himself. 

The emergency buzzer was on the wall by the head of the bed. If Hunk could set it off, all the ward would run in. 

He lunged to press it. 

The drip stand connected sharply with his shoulder, hard enough to throw him off balance but not to floor him. 

“Press it and she dies!” The prisoner rested a threatening foot on Rizavi’s neck. 

The prisoner stared at him, eyes unreadable in the gloom. 

Hunk sighed in surrender and moved away from the buzzer. “Drop your phone,” the convict commanded. Hunk obeyed. “Come round here. Search her pockets. I need the keys to the cuffs.” Hunk acquiesced, kneeling on the floor next to Rivazi’s motionless body. She seemed to be breathing at least, her chest moving up and down. She didn’t stir as Hunk rifled through her pockets. From the dim light in the room, Hunk could see the convict’s menacing silhouette. His hands found something cool and metallic. 

Trembling, Hunk held out the small, silver keys, glinting in the low light. 

Even in the shadows, Hunk could see thin lips twist into a triumphant smile. "Undo them for me."

Hunk obliged as best he could, fingers trembling. 

The cuffs sprang free with a click and clattered to the floor. “Now,” the prisoner continued, voice low and sinister, “I'm going to wrap myself in blankets and we're going to your staff changing room. If you scream or run I will kill you.” Hunk believed him. “Do you have car keys?”

"Yes," Hunk choked out.

The prisoner’s mouth curled up in the the ghost of a smile. "Good. But try anything," the prisoner warned. "And it will be the last thing you ever do." He still hadn’t let go of the drip stand, and he gripped it for emphasis. "The. Last. Thing."

Hunk nodded, taking in his assailant for the first time. The first surprise was that he was smaller than Hunk. All lean, wiry muscle with a shock of badly cut dark hair that fell into his eyes. He was perhaps at most a few years older than Hunk. Old enough to have the engineering masters Hunk was subjecting himself to this shit for in order to fund.

"Pass me the blankets," the prisoner commanded, slipping his shoes on with the hospital issue pyjamas he was wearing. Hunk acquiesced. The prisoner then draped one over his head and wrapped it around himself, anonymising himself in the fabric. He then turned the drip stand the right way up, and held it tightly.

"Let's go." 

Hunk led them down the hall to the male staff changing room. They were almost there when...

"Hunk?"

Hunk inwardly cursed. "Shay?" He'd never been less pleased to see her. 

"I didn't expect you to be free yet," Shay remarked casually. "I thought you were staying with the convict until the police arrived."

The knuckles around the drip stand turned white. 

"What? Oh yeah," Hunk laughed and hoped he didn't sound as terrified as he felt. "They showed up about five minutes ago. So I'm just escorting Mr uh Flack here to the toilet. Then, I am all yours," he finished, the last words a prayer. 

"Well," she gave him a very cute smile. "Don't let me stop you."

"Aye aye captain!" He mock saluted her. 

They made their way to the deserted staff changing room without further interruption. "Turn and face the wall," his assailant commanded once they were inside. "Hands up."

Hunk did as he was ordered. He heard rustling, no doubt as his former detainee helped himself to Hunk's colleagues' clothing. "Turn around. Get your car keys. And your wallet." Hunk did a double take. The other man had changed from a regulation hospital gown into tight black jeans and a warm red hoodie. It was astonishing how ordinary he looked, Hunk thought as he reluctantly handed over his valuables. 

The criminal continued, "If you're challenged, you say you've just had some bad diarrhoea and you need to go home. They won't ask any questions about that." Hunk was beginning to doubt the whole suicidal, hunger strike thing. In fact, this whole thing seemed suspiciously well planned. 

"Now we're going to walk normally out of the ward to your car," the prisoner continued, still holding onto the dripstand, as they exited the ward into the hospital atrium. "Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Just keep going. That's it big guy."

"My name," Hunk spat angrily, "Is Hunk." The tension rose rapidly within him, then dissipated twice as quickly, leaving only fear. 

The prisoner blinked once in surprise. "Keith," he offered in return. 

As they exited the hospital into the moonless night, Keith started to take deep breathes, inhaling the crisp, cold air. 

"How long have you been inside?" Hunk asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

"Too long," Keith answered, expression unreadable. "Far too long."

Hunk led him to where his car was parked two streets away from the hospital. "It's this one." The other man made short work opening the boot, and quickly pulling Hunk's prized toolkit from it. Keith then looked at it significantly. "Get in," he commanded. 

"I'm sorry, what!?" Hunk asked, incredulous. 

"In there," Keith explained, impatiently gesturing at the boot. 

"You want me to come with you?" Hunk wanted to cry. That or shit himself. "But, um, you can just let me go?" 

The prisoner shook his head. "Can't have you raising the alarm."

"I uh. You should probably know," Hunk shuddered, "I'll be sick."

The other guy didn't even blink. 

Hunk gulped and climbed into the boot of his own car. 

He felt the engine roar into life as he was thrown against the boot's back wall from the force of the acceleration. 

Hunk Garrett. Engineering student. Amateur chef. Healthcare assistant. 

And now, hostage and probable future murder victim. 

Hunk struggled not to cry. If he did survive this, he told himself, it would certainly be a memorable night shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: wilful self-deprivation of food, mentions of murder, kidnapping, threatened assault, actual assault, vomiting, hospital inpatient setting, likely wild inaccuracies pertaining to prison protocol.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey Shay, have you seen Hunk?" Rolo asked. "I need him to chaperone me." Rolo was the most arrogant of the latest crop of junior doctors and Shay remained entirely unconvinced by him. 

"Last time I saw him, he was escorting Mr Flack to the toilet," Shay answered neutrally.

"Mr Flack?" Rolo scowled. "What bed is he in? I'll go track Hunk down."

Shay checked the ward's patient list with increasing confusion. "We don't have a Mr Flack. In fact," she looked at ward's patient archives, "We haven't had anyone called Flack admitted here all week."

"So the last place Hunk was seen was..." Rolo looked at her in exasperation, "Where exactly?"

Shay's eyes widened. "With the prisoner."

They looked in horror at each other before walking with increasing dread towards side-room four.

Initially it appeared to be empty.

No Hunk. No prisoner.

“Shit!” Rolo swore. “I’ll call the police.”

“Wait!” Shay stepped around the bed. The female prison warden lay unconscious on the floor. “Put out a Medical Emergency Call!” she ordered Rolo. “Hello! Hello!” she shouted at the warden, feeling for a pulse. “Can you hear me?”

The car journey seemed to last forever. Hunk, juddering away in the back, somehow managed to keep his stomach contents inside his stomach, but it was a very near thing. They made two short stops, but Hunk was completely ignorant as to where or how long they really were. When they finally did stop at whatever their final destination was, Keith seemed to have left him alone.

Hunk tried not to think that Keith might be about to douse his car with petrol then set both it and him on fire.

The boot opened without warning, jerking Hunk out of his morbid musings. Blinking in the relative bright light, Hunk saw kind brown eyes peering at him from under a tuft of greying black hair. An accomplice? "You'd better come in," the stranger told him, holding out a hand.

Hunk took it and clambered uneasily out of the car, knees shaking slightly. He realised he was in what looked like a private garage, with his car parked up next to a sleek black convertible Porsche. He couldn't help wondering with trepidation what the other man did exactly to be able to afford something that stylish.

The other man ushered him through a door into a large, well lit kitchen.

Hunk stood there gormlessly. Was he about to be stabbed with a kitchen knife?

"I'm sorry about this," the stranger apologised, to Hunk’s amazement. "It must have all come as a shock."

"Yeah," Hunk admitted, "Yeah."

"Can I get you anything to drink?" the other man offered.

"Um, water? Thanks." Hunk gratefully took a long swig when the stranger handed him a full glass. "Who are you anyway?" Hunk asked. "Where am I? What time is it?" He paled at a new thought. "Where is he? Oh my god! Are you a hostage too?" 

"My name's Takashi Shirogane, but just call me Shiro," the other man introduced himself. "I was Keith's defence lawyer during his trial." Hunk paled. If that was true then this guy could not be one of Keith's favourite people. Had he come here for a revenge killing? "Keith's sleeping by the way," Shiro continued, entirely at ease at the prospect of an unconscious convict in his home. "Had some breakfast then out like a light." The man gave a fond smile, as though Keith was a disreputable younger sibling in bed with a hangover, and not a criminal who had escaped with a hostage from a high security prison. "There's cereal and toast if you want some. Oh and it's about seven thirty. AM."

Well, Hunk thought, munching on a piece of toast, that had been very different to what he'd been anticipating. Not only had he not been set on fire, someone had actually provided him with food.

Takashi Shirogane though, the name sounded very familiar and it did not have good connotations. Things started to slot into place like a macabre jigsaw puzzle. "Wait. If your name's Takashi Shirogane. And you were Keith's defence lawyer. Oh my god, is he _Keith Kogane_?"

Shirogane's answering sigh said it all.

Hunk steadied himself on the kitchen table. Here he was, the kidnapping victim of the most infamous criminal in the country. The Kogane case had dominated the news for months back in 2014. It had been impossible to ignore the trial and subsequent conviction of the decorated young firefighter who'd murdered his mother, stepfather and younger sister by burning their house down.

Hunk could count himself lucky that after four hours in Keith Kogane's unrestrained company that he, Hunk, was still breathing.

"I'm sorry you got caught up in all of this," Shiro apologised. "Keith's always been impulsive, but this is on a whole new level."

 _"_ Yeah. Well," Hunk appraised the lawyer in front of him. "You're not um...him. So can you just let me go?"

The other man sighed and looked away. "I've promised Keith three days."

"Three days?" Hunk was surprised. "For what?" Keith Kogane was serving multiple life sentences for murder. What could three days possibly get him?

A weak voice sounded from the doorway. "They're for me to prove that I'm innocent."

Just when Hunk felt he couldn't be more shocked, Keith went and delivered another bombshell.

" _Innocent_!" Hunk gaped. What Keith had been convicted of had been beyond horrific. But the idea that he was serving out a full life sentence undeservedly was equally awful. But then, "You do not behave like a guy who didn't commit murder!” Hunk accused Keith, furious and astonished. “You attacked Rizavi! You threatened to kill me!"

"I...urgh!" Keith slid into a spare seat at the kitchen table then shook himself like a dog. "When Griffin started vomiting, I saw a chance at the hospital and I took it! I needed you to do what I wanted and there was no time to explain. I didn't plan for anyone else to get caught up in this."

Well then, Hunk would advise him against threatening innocent members of the public with drip stands.

 _"_ I knew if I starved myself for long enough, eventually they'd have to take me out of the prison," Keith continued. "Then I'd have a chance to do...something. I don’t know. I improvised. I had to get out."

"Why?" Hunk asked, noticing how Shiro too was listening intently.

"Because as long as I'm inside, the real killer is walking around somewhere," Keith explained heavily. "With no one looking for them because everyone thinks I did it."

Keith sipped at the filter coffee Shiro had poured for himself. “I’m sorry about Rizavi,” he added quietly. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.” Keith had changed out of the clothes he'd stolen from the hospital into some blue pyjamas, which hung off his malnourished frame. Now visible in the cold light of day, Keith was clearly recognisable as the young man whose purported actions had horrified a nation five years earlier. Except now he was older, gaunter and sadder than he'd been during his trial.

Could Keith Kogane actually be innocent? Hunk didn't remember the details of the trial, but the evidence must have been conclusive for Keith to have been convicted. The prosecution had demonstrated opportunity, motive, and a lack of alternative options. Then again, Keith had seemed convincing when he gave his little spiel. "Do you believe him?" Hunk asked Shiro.

Shiro looked straight at his former defendant. "I always did."

The sides of Keith's mouth twitched up in a flicker of a smile. "Thanks Shiro."

"Shall I turn the news on?" Shiro offered, wryly adding, "I have a feeling you're going to be the first item."

Hunk hadn't thought of that. The sensation of a prison escape combined with the notoriety of the Kogane case was going to attract a lot of publicity. The TV screen flickered to life. The news banner read 'KOGANE PRISON ESCAPE' in block capitals.

The picture showed a slim, white haired woman holding a press conference. "...Detective Chief Inspector Allura Altea," she introduced herself. Hunk felt Keith stiffen next to him. "Keith Kogane escaped from North Gate Hospital where he was being treated at approximately half past three this morning. He was previously being held at Daibazaal High Security Prison on three counts of murder. A large scale manhunt has been initiated. Members of the public are encouraged to contact the police with any information pertaining to Kogane's whereabouts. However we do advise the public to stay away from Kogane, who is an extremely dangerous individual, and may be armed. We have reason to believe he has already taken a hostage, Iosefa Garrett, a healthcare assistant working at North Gate Hospital."

"That you?" Shiro asked him. Hunk nodded, embarrassed. No one called him Iosefa anymore.

"So much for 'my name is Hunk'," Keith added snidely. Hunk ignored him.

"Images of the two men will be shared with the public," DCI Altea continued. "We would also encourage the public to contact us if they have any information regarding a black Ford Focus, registration as follows," Hunk listened in astonishment as DCI Altea rattled off his number plate. They worked fast! "Thank you,” the police woman finished. “I will now take questions."

"I changed the plates," Keith told Hunk. "Three times. Thanks for the toolbox."

"Don't uh mention it?" Hunk told him. "Do you think they'll search here?" He wasn't honestly sure what he wanted the answer to be.

"Probably not," Shiro told him. "You know where they will go, right?" he asked Keith.

"He deserves it," Keith answered shortly.

Well that sounded ominous. "Who's he talking about?" Hunk asked Shiro, who said nothing, and just glanced significantly at the television, which had changed segments, and now showed a young man whose brown hair shone in the fierce studio lighting.

"Good morning," the presenter trilled, "I'm Lance McClain. In local news..." Hunk wasn't paying attention. He was looking at Keith, who appeared absolutely transfixed by the newsreader, black eyebrows narrowed furiously in a fierce scowl.

Hunk would bet money that this effervescent presenter was the answer to his previous question.

"You can't blame Lance," Shiro started softly.

"He _testified against me_!" Keith exploded. "Allura Altea fluttered her eyelashes at him and he fucking _sang_ for her!"

"Allura asked him some questions and Lance answered them truthfully." Shiro answered evenly.

"Deep seated abandonment issues? Resentment towards my mother's new family?" Keith scoffed. "His words. They didn't have a motive until Lance opened his mouth."

"They'd always have found something Keith," Shiro sighed. "A firefighter at the scene when a house burnt down in a proven arson attack. They wanted to pin it on you."

Keith scowled deeply but said nothing.

"Anyway, we can't say how long the police will occupy themselves with chasing Lance over your escape," Shiro told them. "Three days and then you leave, all right?"

Keith nodded once. "Can I still look at those files?"

 _"_ Sure. Hunk and I will go and get them," Shiro volunteered. "Do you want to make yourself comfortable in the study?" 

Keith nodded and left the room.

"Hey. Uh. I need to ask you," Shiro started as he led Hunk back into the garage. "Keith hasn't eaten for weeks. Do I need to do worry about anything now he's started food again?"

"There's a condition called refeeding syndrome, I think," Hunk racked his brains for the answer. "Shay - she's a nurse - she was talking about it. You can drop your phosphate levels. So I guess he should eat high phosphate foods? Like, uh hard cheese. And oily fish."

Shiro nodded thoughtfully. "I'll get onto it."

"You really care about him," Hunk commented.

"I never had siblings," Shiro told him, honestly. "Turns out, give me a traumatised, terrified twenty-something on trial for triple murder and my fraternal instincts just go haywire." He picked up a large, taped up cardboard box from one of the shelves and handed it to Hunk. "Take this to him, please."

Shiro's study was a small, well appointed room with lots of natural light and a view of the garden. Keith sat at the desk, drumming impatient fingers while he waited for the computer to load. Hunk gratefully dumped the box down on the floor by Keith's chair. He and Shiro then repeated the process several times until the garage shelves were empty.

"Oh man those were heavy," Hunk moaned once they were done. "What even is in there?" 

"Case files," Keith told him. " _My_ case files."

Oh. Well that explained the weight.

Keith grabbed a pair of scissors and used the blade to score through the brown tape sealing the first box closed. Hunk repressed a flinch. He knew what the other man could do with potential weapons if so motivated.

But Keith seemed content to use the scissors for their intended purpose. "Shiro got copies of everything he could from the trial," he explained, pulling out some bulging Manila folders and dumping them on the desk. "Wanted to see if there was anything that could be used to mount an appeal."

"You want me to help you look through them?" Hunk offered. It wouldn’t hurt, he figured, to keep Kogane on side.

Keith shook his head. "You won't know what you're looking for."

Hunk raised an eyebrow. "Do you know what you're looking for?"

"Fine," Keith acquiesced ungracefully. His mannerisms could not have gone down well in court. "Here. You can start with this one."

Hunk removed the elastic band from the Manila folder he'd been given and picked out a piece of paper at random.

He wished he hadn't.

"Oh god!" Hunk exclaimed.

He realised he held a post mortem report from a thirteen year old girl.

"What?" Keith asked him. Hunk held up the report. "Oh, yeah, Narti," Keith explained, irritation melting into something else. "My youngest sister. Half sister."

Hunk was fixated by the black and white photocopied image of the girl's corpse.

He forced himself to read the report, which was no better.

_Body badly charred indicating prolonged exposure to fire._

_Severe burns to the tongue, pharynx and airways consistent with the inhalation of hot air prior to death._

_Dental records used to confirm cadaver's identity._

Hunk forced himself to stop reading and closed his eyes.

"The fire started downstairs in the front of the house, and the girls' rooms were upstairs at the back," Keith told him quietly. "Acxa - my other sister - managed to escape from her bedroom window. But Narti had cerebral palsy and couldn't get out."

Keith stopped talking and stared out of the window. He seemed overcome with emotion he dared not reveal.

Traumatised and terrified...

"What actually happened when your family were killed?" Hunk asked.

Keith said nothing for a long time. Hunk was going to drop it and pretend he hadn't spoken. "If I tell you, you can't say anything."

“Who would I tell?” Hunk asked, surprised. "You have me under house arrest."

 _"_ No, I mean, you can't interrupt me." Keith hesitated, "I...talking about this is hard."

"Okay," Hunk agreed.

Keith flashed a brief, tight smile. "Okay."

_April 2014_

_Keith woke with a feeling of mild disorientation. Instead of the usual sounds of his landlord's cow mooing, he could hear a dog barking. Dimly, he realised he was in the spare room at his mother's house. That was right, he remembered. He'd driven straight to her home on the outskirts of the town following his night shift at the fire station, promptly collapsing as soon as Krolia had stopped force feeding him breakfast._

_It was only to be expected. Mothering him to death was her way of making up for missing the first twenty one years of his life._

_He squinted at the alarm clock. Seventeen fifty it read._

_Perfect. Almost time for dinner._

_"Hi Keith," his mother greeted him as Keith stumbled down the stairs of the picturesque barn conversion to the kitchen. Krolia Marmora (not Kogane, she'd never been a Kogane) was a slim woman with sharp features and sharper eyes, who looked younger than her forty nine years. "How was the shift?"_

_"Long," Keith told her honestly, bending down to stroke Krolia's dog's fluffy black head. "Nothing major though," he added as Kosmo licked enthusiastically at his face._

_"Why did we have to keep that stupid dog?" a familiar voice sounded from the stairs. At sixteen, Acxa was Krolia's eldest daughter. She seemed to be going through puberty the same way as Keith had done, with lots of moody silences, broken only by bursts of confrontational attitude. "I mean," she glared at him, "You were the one who found him."_

_"I can't keep him," Keith told her, "He upsets Kalternecker."_

_"Your boyfriend's cow?" Acxa raised an eyebrow. "Why does he have a pet cow?"_

_"Lance is not my boyfriend," Keith explained for the umpteenth time. "He's a guy who had a room to rent in his house." News presenters were evidently better paid than firefighters. Keith paused, then admitted, "I have no idea why he has a cow."_

_"Lance's cow produces very good milk," Krolia reminded her daughter. "And Narti seems to like having Kosmo here. He's helped since Kova died."_

_"She should get another proper service animal, not some abandoned mutt!" Acxa aimed the last two words at Keith, but it was Krolia who flinched at them. Abandonment was a touchy subject for her._

_After all, what sort of self-respecting undercover cop got herself knocked up by the loanshark she was supposed to be investigating? What type of mother would just abandon her newborn son, after her operation ended?_

_Keith's sullen train of thought was broken by the arrival of Krolia's younger daughter. Intracranial haemorrhage secondary to birth trauma had left Narti with significant disabilities, especially with her vision and speech. Despite - or maybe because of it, Narti was thoughtful and perceptive, with a unique perspective on the world._

_Keith adored her._

_Narti sat down at the kitchen table next to Keith. "When's dinner," Narti signed._

_"Probably when your dad gets back," Keith told her. She nodded. "How's school?" Keith asked._

_"Good," she replied. "Can you help me with my algebra homework?"_

_Keith scrunched his face up. "Probably not," he admitted. "I didn't go to school a lot when I was your age." Not after one of the people who had owed his father money had paid him back in bullets. "But I'll have a go."_

_He was saved by the sound of the front door opening. Thace, Krolia's husband, was a tall, gentle man who liked the quiet life with his family and accountancy firm. How he'd ended up with Krolia, Keith had no idea. They did seem happy though._

_"You cooked?" Thace asked his wife, uncovering the pots on the hobs in pleasant surprise. "I thought it was my turn."_

_"Worked from home," Krolia explained. "Besides, Keith's here."_

_"Oh hi Keith," Thace smiled, seeming genuinely pleased to see him, as he ruffled Narti's hair._

_"Any breakthroughs yet on your current case?" Thace asked Krolia, as he laid the table._

_"None so far," Krolia replied. "I’m still just trawling through data." She had swapped the police force for investigating white collar crimes for the financial regulator after Narti had been born._

_"How much will it be worth?" Keith asked._

_"Potentially?" Krolia pursed her lips, "About seventy million U.S. dollars."_

_Keith whistled lowly. "That’s a lot!"_

_Krolia nodded once. "Anyway, dinner time!" she announced. Keith dug into the plate of freshly cooked Hunter's chicken like a starving man._

_This was good, he reminded himself. He had a family. A place. Far better than the orphaned, unwanted child of a criminal. This, he told himself, was where he belonged._

_One of these days, he’d start to feel like he fit in._

_Later that night, Keith woke to his mother's terrified face._

_"Keith! Keith!" Krolia shook him violently. "Wake up!"_

_Keith blinked blearily, confused. Something was wrong. Everything was too hot and it hurt to breathe. Almost as if... "Keith, the house is on fire," Krolia told him gravely._

_That explained the familiar, intense heat and sound of crackling flames, more terrifying than they had ever been before. Adrenaline roared through his veins, banishing the vestiges of sleep. His firefighter training kicked in. "We need to get out right now!" He ran to his window and opened it. "Can you jump?"_

_Krolia shook her head stubbornly. "Not without the girls. And then I need to find Thace. He went downstairs to investigate a noise before all this started."_

_Keith knew the look on her face meant there was no dissuading her. He'd seen it in the mirror often enough. There was only one thing he could do. "Find Thace. I'll get the girls out," he told her._

_"No!" Krolia protested, stricken. "You need...you need to stay safe!"_

_Keith shook his head. "They're my family too!" Let Acxa and Narti burn? Not on his watch!_

_He stripped off his pyjama shirt and dumped his bedside glass of water on to it. "Wrap this around your mouth and stay as close to the ground as you can. If the problem's more flames than smoke then get rid of it. Seriously, we need to get out of here ASAP. This isn't a game."_

_Krolia hugged him as tightly as she could. "I love you!" Then she left the room._

_Keith pulled on another shirt and some shoes, grabbing his phone as an afterthought. He blinked furiously as he entered the landing, the thick, billowing smoke making tears well up in his eyes. Despite this, and the ever increasing heat, Keith managed to crawl to the next room along. Acxa's._

_Acxa was staring out of her bedroom window looking terrified._

_"Acxa! Acxa, you need to jump!" Keith shouted at her._

_"It's too high!" Acxa wailed._

_Keith glanced at the six metre drop. "You can make it! Here. Climb out of the window." Acxa obliged, body shaking as she moved to sit on the windowsill. "I've got you." He looped his hands around both of her wrists, ignoring how the heat behind him seemed to intensify. "Dangle your legs down. Hang onto me." His sister didn't need to be told twice, digging her nails into his skin. Keith then lowered down so only her hands were level with the windowsill._

_"Now Acxa I'm going to let go.” He cursed realising he’d forgotten something. “I'll throw my phone to you so you can call the fire brigade when you're outside,” he improvised, praying his discounted old Samsung just didn’t shatter into a million pieces on impact. “You'll be fine. On the count of three. One two...” He looked down at his sister in irritation. "Acxa you need to let go of my wrists."_

_A scream sounded over the lick of the flames._

_"What was that?" Acxa cried out._

_"Nothing!" Mom! "Acxa, you ready to let go of me?" Acxa managed a small, scared nod and obliged. "I'm going to drop you in three, two, one."_

_Acxa fell to the ground and cried out in pain at the impact._

_"Are you all right?" Keith called down to her. She called the affirmative. "Here's my phone," he added, chucking it out the window. Acxa lifted it up. "Call the fire brigade."_

_Keith turned to leave the room. He placed his hand on the room's metal doorknob and cried out at the burning pain._

_"Rookie!" he muttered to himself. "Think. This is what you do."_

_He had a decision to make._

_Narti or Krolia._

_Sister or mother._

Innocent or guilty

 _Krolia screamed again from downstairs. Decision made. "_ Mom _! I'm coming, hold on."_

_Downstairs resembled a scene from Dante's Inferno. Flames had consumed the front door and the living room, and were inching ever closer towards the back of the house._

_More worryingly, some tendrils were racing along the wooden beams that ran across the ceiling.Clearly, whatever varnish Thace had used on them was not fireproof._

_He found his mother staring into the living room. Keith pushed to see what she was looking at.A body lay on the floor, unmoving and surrounded by flames._

Thace _!_

_"I can't get to him!" Krolia shouted, distraught._

_"Come on, we need to leave!" Keith ordered, grabbing hold of her wrist and pulling her back away from the flames. "Acxa’s outside. We can't help him! The fire department's on the way."_

_"Do you think...do you think he's..." she was borderline hysterical._

_Keith slapped her. "Snap out of it! Your daughters need you!” I need you! he added silently._

_Krolia nodded shakily. "Understood."_

_"You go out the back! I'll get Narti." Keith turned to run back to the stairs. A burning ceiling beam fell and crashed through several steps._

_Change of plan._

_"Kitchen!" Keith ordered, keeping his head as low as possible as he took hold of his mother once more and dragged her behind him. Speaking was harder now, with the irritation to his throat from the smoke and the burning air. "We can get into the garden."_

_Krolia shook his shoulder. He turned round. She mouthed a single word. "Narti!"_

_Keith thought furiously. "I might be able to climb up to Narti's room from the outside."_

_Krolia nodded._

_The fire had spread from the front of the house to the back, so the kitchen was comparatively free of flames. That didn't stop the worrying red glow from behind the door, or sound of crackling flames from the storey above._

_Keith groped for keys, but couldn't find them. He gave up, picking up a kitchen chair and smashed it against the patio doors. "Fucking double glazing!" He muttered as the glass refused to shatter. Each breath was excruciating now, the red-hot air blistering his airways._

_"Let's try the window," he suggested. Keith leapt up onto the counter top and opened the window above the sink. Cool, clean air flooded his lungs and he breathed in sheer relief. "Can you jump up here?"_

_Next thing he knew he'd been dragged backwards onto the floor. Krolia stood over him looking terrified. He sat up. A chunk of burning ceiling had fallen through the worktop where he'd just been._

_Oh god. Narti's room was above the kitchen._

_The sinking knowledge of hard won experience told him it was probably too late for her._

_Krolia and Keith returned to smashing at the patio door with whatever they could find._

_Eventually the glass pebbled. Then it shattered._

_Keith turned to grab at Krolia but she simply pushed him through the door into the crisp spring night._

_Keith panted and gasped, letting the cold night air flood his airways like a man spared drowning._

_Keith turned back to drag Krolia behind him. Then the rest of the burning ceiling gave way._

_The resulting force of the crash knocked Keith backwards. He smacked his head on the concrete patio and knew no more._   
  


Keith paused from his story telling to take a long gulp of coffee. "I was unconscious on the lawn as the house continued to burn,” he continued, voice soft. “I woke up, Kosmo was licking my face and Acxa was screaming. She broke her ankle jumping out of the window. I think she'd realised that the rest of them were...weren't coming out.”

Hunk sat there in stunned silence.

"Thace was long dead by the time the emergency services arrived,” Keith continued after a brief pause. “Mom was crushed when the ceiling collapsed. Narti died of smoke inhalation.” He rubbed at his eye, averting his gaze. “I should have done more to get them out,” he admitted, quietly. “Should have made sure they all left. I could have done more. I didn’t kill them but it doesn’t change things. They're still dead because of me."

"Really?" Hunk questioned. "I mean, If you're telling the truth-"

Keith looked at him wryly. "If."

Hunk ignored him, "From what you told me, it sounds like your family would have wanted you to live."

Hunk took Keith's silence for agreement.

"What happened after that?" Hunk asked. Keith's story was not over.

Keith took a quick drink of his coffee and continued.

_“Keith? Keith?” a voice called from outside his room. Kosmo, the traitor, nosed intrusively at his face._

_Keith simply turned over in bed and buried his face into the pillow. “Go away Lance!” In the two weeks since the fire, apart from his single night in hospital, Keith had barely moved from his room, plagued by nightmares about white-hot flames and his mother screaming. Work had been out of the question. Sometimes Acxa came to visit him from where she'd been staying with Thace's mother, and Lance made sure to poke his head in twice a day or so, but otherwise, Keith was on his own._

_"Keith, it's the police," Lance called. "They want to talk to you."_

_That was new._

_Keith pushed Kosmo off him and clambered out of bed to open the door. Lance's worried blue eyes gave him a quick once over. Keith was well aware of how ghastly he looked, with unwashed, unkempt hair and last week's pyjamas, especially next to Lance, who was practically glowing after a morning's filming._

_“There's a detective in the kitchen,” Lance told him, worrying his lip. “I’ve made her coffee.” He glanced at Keith sideways. “You might want to throw on some proper clothes.”_

" _Why?" Keith asked._

_"Just trust me," Lance told him cryptically._

_Keith pulled on a white buttoned shirt and his only pair of smart black trousers. He ran a comb through his hair and strapped it back. It would have to do._

_A very attractive young woman sat at their kitchen table. "Detective Inspector Allura Altea," she introduced herself, holding out a hand for Keith to shake. "Thank you for seeing me. We recently got the report back from the investigation into the fire at your family's place."_

_"Was it the lamp?" Keith asked. He'd been obsessing about the fire's cause. "Thace had a paraffin lamp in the hall. It could have spilled over and set fire to the floor, there was wood everywhere. Barn conversion. And the stuff they used to varnish it went up like paper."_

_"Actually Mr Kogane," Altea shook her head pointedly. "It looks as though it the first item that caught fire was a rug in the living room."_

_Keith nodded slowly. He knew the one. A hairy, lavender monstrosity that Narti had loved (probably because she couldn't see it). "It would have spread quickly from there," Keith told her._

_Altea nodded slowly, pale blue eyes trained to his face. "The rug was doused with kerosene before it ignited. The fire was started deliberately."_

_"What?!" Keith answered, shocked. "Oh my god!"_

_His family had been murdered!_

_"Also," Altea looked him dead in the eye, "The fire alarm had been disabled. The battery had been removed." Keith nodded wordlessly. "In fact," Altea probed, "It looks as though the person who set it knew a lot about fires."_

_Keith felt as though his stomach had fallen out of him. They thought...this woman...the police genuinely thought that he..._

_"Could you come down to the station and answer some questions for us?" Altea asked. For the first time, Keith heard the steel in her voice._

_Keith nodded mutely and followed the detective to her police car._

"The rest you probably know," Keith said as his story wound to an end. "It didn't take long for them to charge me. Thace's paraffin lamp. Kerosene, paraffin...Paraffin’s the more refined version, but it's the same thing. So there was kerosene in the shed to refill it. The prosecution maintained I could have gone downstairs, lit the fire then come back upstairs while it took root."

Hunk nodded. It did sound like a logically plausible story.

"The thing that hurt was how quickly Acxa fell for it. I mean." He looked at Hunk in disbelief, his strange eyes wide and lost. "I saved her life. Why would I have done that if I wanted to kill them all?"

Hunk didn’t answer, slowly processing everything Keith had just said to him. Either the other man was an astonishing actor...

...Or his story was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: description of death in an arson attack

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it. If you did (or didn't) let me know what you thought. Very open to criticism!


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